“I think if you listened to him now, you might understand better.”
I conjure a picture of Nora in my mind—the woman who had been one of the few girlfriends I’d ever had in my life. Yes, she’s Nate’s sister, but on that horrible night, I didn’t feel the anger or hostility from her because I’m a child of the Ramsay family. She defended me.
“I do miss you, Nora,” I say. “I really do, but I’m not ready for any of this. Not yet.”
“I understand, and I know I’m interfering. I’m sorry for that, but I can’t help myself. I miss you, and I hate seeing my brother this way. You have every right to be angry, but Nataniele is trying to get himself together again. I hope at some point you will give him a chance to tell you what’s going on in that head of his. It might be good for you both. He’s really a very sensitive boy, you know. He always was. It’s why he and Pops never got along.”
“Maybe someday.”
“It’s your choice, but I hope you will. I hope when you do, you’ll listen with an open mind. In the meantime, please keep in touch with me, at least. I want to know you’re all right.”
I reluctantly agree before hanging up the phone. After wiping my cheeks, I continue the short trek to the house while staring at my feet. At first, I don’t even notice the woman standing on the front porch, waiting for me. I startle when she says hello.
I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out who she is. I assume it’s someone looking for antiques, and her face is vaguely familiar, but I don’t quite recognize her. She’s tall and dressed in a long, expensive-looking leather coat and red pumps. Her hair is dark and wavy. She looks a little familiar, that’s for sure, but like Nora’s voice on the phone, I can’t place her right away.
“Hello, Cherry!” She gives me a friendly wave as I approach.
“Hi.” I tilt my head, still trying to place her.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks, smiling broadly with her red-painted lips.
“I…I don’t think so.”
She takes a few steps off the porch, extending her hand to me. I take it automatically, but a tightening inside my gut makes me wary.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you officially for a long time,” the woman says.
“I’m sorry?” I don’t know what else to say.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she says, “showing up on your doorstep like this. I’m afraid I wasn’t sure how else to contact you.”
“Are you looking for furniture?” I blurt out.
“Oh, no.” She laughs melodiously. “I’m looking for you, Cherice. My name is Janna Ramsay.”
I take a step back as my head spins—first Nora’s call and now this. After spending my time avoiding the issues of Nate, my parentage, and everything in Cascade Falls altogether, this is too much. Why is she here? What does she want? Should I run away as fast as I can or invite her inside for tea? I back away a bit more, glancing around as if I expect to be surrounded by armed guards.
“I see from the look on your face that the Orso family has told you about me. I assure you, most of what they’ve said are lies. We are rivals, that’s for sure, but my family members are not the bad guys here, Cherice.” She laughs again. “I should say our family, right?”
I cringe at the words, swallowing hard and trying to keep my composure and surely failing. I feel a little sick to my stomach. One thing I know for sure, she’s right about the Orso family lying to me. My whole relationship with Nate was built on lies, so maybe he lied about the Ramsays as well.
I look around again, noticing for the first time the bright red car in the driveway. I don’t see anyone else inside of it, and th
ere are no other strange cars around.
“I’m here alone,” Janna says. “I just wanted to meet you and hoped you’d be willing to talk to me.”
I’ve only seen blurry photos of her before, so I look at her face, trying to find any resemblance, but my mind is too befuddled to make a decent comparison. Her hair is dark, like Nate’s, not red, but red hair is recessive trait. At least, I think it is. My mind stays focused on trying to remember that little factoid, and I can’t reply to her at all.
“You must have a lot of questions,” Janna says. “I thought maybe you would reach out to me, but when you didn’t…well, here I am.”
She is part of my family.
“So, we really are related?” I finally manage to say.
“We’re sisters, yes,” she says with a kind smile. “Just a year apart, actually. I can’t imagine what you’ve been told. Could we possibly go inside and discuss it? I’ve been waiting for a while and would love to sit for a bit.”
I stop myself from making a comment about inappropriate shoes and reluctantly lead her into the house and sit across from her in the living room. Though I’m sure Aunt Ginny would be appalled that I’m not offering my guest a refreshment, I’m not interested in pleasantries at the moment. However, I do have questions—a lot of them—and Janna may very well have the answers.